3 months ago, my dad came home and told us he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. 2 months ago he came home and told us that he had less than a year left of his life.
He was misdiagnosed for more than 9 months, and I can't help but resent the GP, the hospital, for not noticing earlier. He lost a lot of weight, and sometimes I think it should have been enough for them to at least suspect something.
He was misdiagnosed for at least 9 months, and because of that, he's going to die. Less than 3% of pancreatic cancer patients survive past 5 years.
Popularised cancer has had improved survival rates, by almost 50%, but I didn't even know pancreatic cancer existed and there has to be something wrong with that. There has do be something wrong with the fact that it's so difficult to diagnose, too unknown, that it was misdiagnosed until it became terminal.
I feel so useless. I can't concentrate on school work, I'm falling behind on my higher coursework because I'm so preoccupied. I'm on the edge of losing my job and my family can't afford it but I've had to cancel on so many shifts just so I can look after my 8 year d sister during hospital appointments. I can say that cancer ripped my life apart, but it's me who's screwing it up. And I hate it
Page updated 9 December 2016